


We're Forever Gonna Have A Fucking Reason To Sin

by kitkatzrgr8



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Addict is a Fantastic Song, Cherri Is A Good Friend, Fuck Valentino (And Not In The Fun Way), Gen, I Would Perish for Fat Nuggets, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Makes Use of the 'Demon Hunter is Cherri's Ex' Theory, crossposted from a deleted account, if i misinterpreted something please don't kill me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25893286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatzrgr8/pseuds/kitkatzrgr8
Summary: Cherri Bomb knew more than she ever really seemed to show. Even Angel seemed to forget that sometimes, or at least feigned ignorance to it, and she really couldn’t blame him for that. After all, she was guilty of the same thing. Sometimes it was easier just to pretend that things were fine for a while and ignore the other's bitten lips and neck littered with dark bruises she knew he hadn't asked for.
Relationships: Angel Dust & Cherri Bomb (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust/Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), Cherri Bomb/Ambiguous Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	We're Forever Gonna Have A Fucking Reason To Sin

**Author's Note:**

> If this looks at all familiar, that is because I've completely removed it from another account and decidedly posted it on this one! Also, this lil drabble incorporates the headcanon that the unnamed demon that is shown through Cherri's imagery is her Ex because I felt like it, so take that as you will. Yes, due to physical similarities, it makes more sense for them to be a family member, but the lyrics matched up well enough to infer a romantic relationship in my opinion.

Cherri Bomb knew more than she ever really seemed to show. Even Angel seemed to forget that sometimes, or at least feigned ignorance to it, and she really couldn’t blame him for that. After all, she was guilty of the same thing. Sometimes it was easier just to pretend that things were fine for a while and ignore all the wrongness that was around them. 

The _real_ wrongness. Not the booze and the sex and the shootups and brawls that The Exterminators claimed was the reason for their being lower than any other miserable creature in existence. No, Cherri meant the real wrongness that plagued the world before death and the world after it, the wrongness that they all pretended was nonexistent behind laughter and throwing punches and explosions. 

Explosions were fun and beautiful and destructive… but more importantly, they were loud. Her signature weapon was her favorite for a lot of reasons, but sometimes it was just the fact that it blocked out everything around her for a while. It was a lot easier to ignore Angel’s bitten lips and mussed fur in places that should be untouched while they were laughing through the earbursting sound of another explosion. Tossing a bomb to Angel just to see his eyes light up before he threw it, both of them fighting together in a way that was so well coordinated it was more a choreographed dance as they took down whoever they were fighting for one reason or another… it made it a lot easier to block out the big picture stuff when being forced to focus on what was happening now.

But then the scuffle, fight, or turf war, or whatever they were doing would end. But then Cherri would offer a high five because she knew she couldn’t pull him into a hug some days. But then Angel’s smile would fall just the tiniest bit, and he’d say what he always did at some point or another.

_“Thanks for the fun time, ya bombastic babe. But I think I should be heading back.”_

Cherri would just laugh at that, and they’d both pretend they didn’t hear how forced it was, and she’d lightly punch his shoulder. 

_“Anytime, Angie. Don’t be a stranger!”_

Furry hips that were plastered across too many magazines to count would swing from side to side in a way that looked far too natural, and Angel would lean in, bending at the waist instead of the knees in a way that would give a crowd a perfect view if there were one present. His lower set of hands would land on said hips, bruised wrists placed with perfect poise in just the right places. Movements he had perfected for fun, now just a part of his everyday posture. 

_“Funny, you think you can get rid of me at this point? Too late, you’re stuck with me now, sugar tits!”_

His real smile might be back, sharp teeth gleaming aside the gold one he shared with his boss, but that didn’t change what she saw in his eyes. 

_“Aw, shit. Just my fuckin’ awful luck, huh?”_

They had to part ways sooner or later, some days even sooner than others. Angel would return back to Valentino, and Cherri would find more shit to blow up to make her hellish existence more interesting. 

...She hated Valentino. Despite all their pretending, that didn’t change that first fact of how much she knew. She knew what happened behind closed doors and in the backseats of limos, and even in public. Really, she'd have to be dense as fuck _not_ to see it. This was hell, this was literal fucking _hell_ ; she shouldn’t be fazed by anything that happened here, lest of all what the director of hell’s biggest porn industry decided to do with his stay among the fire and brimstone. But that didn’t stop her from pulling out her signature weapons from nowhere whenever his fucking face crossed her fucking mind. It didn't help anything to roll the bombs between her lithe fingers, imagining the stupid moth demon’s head in their place and throwing them as hard as she could down at the ground, but that didn't stop her from doing it. The theatrical, and equally destructive, resulting explosion barely made her take a step back anymore, merely closing her eye as the aftershocks of air whipped her hair around her face and whisked away any evidence of the tears that she absolutely never shed. 

She hated Valentino, but she wasn’t stupid enough to think she could do anything about it other than be there for Angel when she could. Even if every time she caught a glimpse of the manipulative moth she wanted to take those stupid heart-shaped glasses and shove them up his ass so far she could watch him choke on them. Even if every time she found herself in Angel’s apartment on a bad night she wanted nothing more than to hug the shit out of her best friend and take him away somewhere where things were better. Even if… even if… 

Falling in love was like falling deep into a pit worse than the hell they currently lived in, and that was something Cherri knew from experience. Literal demons and figurative ones made up the demons of her own past, leering faces glancing at her in reflections and following her when things got too quiet— she didn’t let things stay quiet for long, anymore— and it was for that reason that she couldn’t fault Angel for any of this. Not that she would regardless, but with this she actually understood. She understood the draw to the person that loved you in all the wrong ways, in ways that made you question in the darkest parts of night whether they had ever held any semblance of love for you in the first place. That was an addiction in and of its own right, harder to go clean on than any drug that she may or may not have experimented with. They loved you. They hated hated you. They punished for misbehaving, but said they craved the way you could never be controlled. _He_ could provide the money and power, if _she_ provided…

Cherri understood. She didn’t like it, especially now that she was lucky or unlucky enough to be looking back on everything with a better perspective, but she _understood_.

At least he had her for the nights that got so bad that he couldn’t even get out of bed to feed Fat Nuggets. For as much of a brash and loud personality she had, she could mute it enough to shove something from the back of the nearly unused fridge at the pig and then try to comfort Angel. At least he had a job that he used to love, even if it was clear that he hated the looks he got ~~the looks he got from _him_~~ and the things he did, now. Cherri didn’t comment on the box of his prized dildos that had a hastily written ‘for work’ written above a crossed out ‘for fun,’ but it still hurt her every time she saw the things that had marked his breaking in ways she would never outwardly show. At least he had an apparently rent-free place to stay, more importantly away from Valentino, even if Cherri had been unable to stop laughing once she saw Lil Miss Princess of Hell’s interview explaining what that place was meant to be. 

Hah… a hotel to rehabilitate sinners. Cherri wasn’t exactly the smartest bitch on the block, but even she knew that getting the fuckshits of hell to even _want_ to change their ways, let alone to actually succeed in doing so, was a pointless venture. They were all addicted to something unholy that the world had pushed onto them, an existence of chaos and murder and selfishness that the uncaring world of before had forced them to become dependant on to cope... and some addictions left you helpless in a way that you could never be overcome. Who would even want to try? Who would want to be ‘good’ in a way that heaven deemed worthy when faced with everything the world had to offer, the death and sickness and blood and rape and… 

She’d support Angel Dust in whatever he did, of course. If he wanted to stay at this fucking idiotic idealist hotel, so be it. His place of residence paled in comparison to everything else about his life. She didn’t give a singular flying fuck about that, not when she had seen this man so excited for a new life in hell turn into the man who had been sobbing next to her only a few nights ago. Not when he brushed his fur over the dark mark of bruises because the patrons wanted a perfect body on show, not when he had choked through the tears that it didn’t matter if he wasn’t asking for it because he was a prostitute anyways and that he owed it to the man he loved, not when he faux bragged of his many services in a way that was so reminiscent of the genuinely boastful man she used to know and yet completely different. She didn’t even give a second thought to that hotel, not in the slightest, she _promised_ , because what kind of friend would she be to think of something as stupid as that when actual problems were to be faced? 

~~Cherri had never been good at keeping her promises, not even the ones she made herself, even before she had taken her father's advice and gone to hell.~~

...Yeah, Cherri knew a lot more than even she acknowledged a lot of the time. And, for some reason, despite every single one of the screaming thoughts at the front of her mind, a smaller part of her knew that this hotel was important. That for better or for worse, Angel would find something there that would change everything. Acceptance, rehabilitation, or an escape from something more real than the petty ‘sin’ that the puny princess of hell saw as an abomination, Cherri didn’t know. But something would change, and she could only hope it was going to be for the better for Angel...

… she didn’t ‘hope’ for much these days, but for Angel, she’d do just about anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Valentino, just like every other sinner in this series, is realistically flawed. That’s one of the things I genuinely love about this series— a cast of characters that are by no means perfect being paired with Charlie's idealistic thought of redemption— and I don’t mean to set him up on a pedestal of irredeemableness, especially in comparison with people like Alastor whom y'know, have Done The Death many a time. However, I feel like from Cherri’s perspective, Valentino would be as irredeemable as they come, and so any mentions of him in this are made with that mindset. Not that I think she thinks that anyone is redeemable, or at least I don't think she cares enough to think about that concept, but I think it’s safe to say that she views his actions as some of the worst.


End file.
